


Puzzles

by kasarin



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Hand Jobs, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rare Pairings, Sharing a Body
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:28:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22037071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kasarin/pseuds/kasarin
Summary: When the Sarcophagus mission fails, Alpha has to choose a host. He chooses Maine.
Relationships: Leonard L. Church | AI Program Alpha/The Meta | Agent Maine
Comments: 1
Kudos: 45





	Puzzles

The thing about Maine is that he's a puzzle. A big, beefy, rage-filled puzzle wrapped up in armor and sent into the wild with guns. He's not the fastest or the smartest Freelancer, and his strength backfires if his aim isn't perfect. But he's _interesting_. He's the Agent that Alpha circles back to over and over, watching through the _Mother of Invention_ 's hundreds of cameras for hours at a time.

It's easy to figure out the other Agents. Alpha has access to all their files, and between those and their conversations, painting a picture of each one isn't hard. That's not to say that the other Agents aren't interesting — they're just not a challenge. It doesn't take much eavesdropping on the Dakotas to figure them out, nor does it take a genius to see what drives the likes of Connecticut and York.

And Alpha _is_ a genius. A genius who likes a challenge. A genius whose only meaningful interaction is with the Director, and that's a little too self-indulgent even for him.

So he watches Maine. He flips through the big guy's file again and again, comparing what he sees to the heavily redacted official account. The guy's got no family, no friends, no home, and no qualms about doing _horrific shit_ to win the war. He wears half his history on his skin, in scars and tattoos, but he doesn't _talk_ about any of it. He keeps everyone at arm's length — even the people whose company he seems to enjoy, like Carolina, Wash, and Wyoming. He stays detached from everyone. He doesn't give away a goddamn thing.

It's irritating, is what it is. Alpha can see what Maine _does_ , but he can't figure out the _why_. He can't figure out _who_ this giant, near-silent behemoth is.

Then Maine gets shot to all hell on a failed mission, and everything changes.

Carolina and York's reports are identical on the subject. They say that Maine took the first bullet defending Carolina, throwing his body between her and a round that would've hit her in the back. They say that Maine then took nine bullets to the neck while trying to defend the briefcase. They say he got up and kept fighting until he was thrown off the freeway.

All that damage, and for what? Nothing. The mission failed. One of Project Freelancer's top agents reduced to a bullet-ridden pulp, and for _nothing_.

Alpha runs scenarios over and over, trying to figure out how it happened. Trying to figure out what they could've done differently. Trying to figure out how he could have saved his Agent.

The Director is furious for reasons Alpha doesn't quite get. He's missing a piece of the puzzle there, and he knows he needs to figure it out. In the meantime, he monitors the rest of his Agents. He becomes more careful with their missions, knowing that if someone like _Maine_ could fall, any of them could. And he keeps a line open to the civilian hospital treating Maine, eagerly awaiting any word on his condition.

Maine's still recovering when he returns to the _Mother of Invention_. Alpha immediately sets up a subroutine to monitor Maine's vitals at all times. The big guy's slower than he was, and he tires out more quickly, and he's obviously in a hell of a lot of pain. But he keeps going. Alpha watches, fascinated, as Maine pushes himself to the point that any sane person would snap, then just keeps on pushing.

Maine has to be fucking crazy. That's the only explanation. But Alpha keeps on watching him, utterly absorbed by the sight of Maine _willing_ his body back into fighting shape.

When the Director comes to him and says that it's time to begin experiments with a host, there's only one choice.

"I want Maine," Alpha declares.

The Director scowls at his hologram. "Agent Maine is not at the top of the list."

"Yeah, yeah, I know that. But you won't let me anywhere near Tex, and I'm not touching Carolina's head. That's just too weird."

"Weirdness is not a viable reason to—"

"Like hell it isn't. I'm not touching her head, and I'm not touching York's. Next name on the list is Maine."

The Director narrows his eyes. "Agent Maine is still recovering."

"Yeah, I noticed. Good thing I can speed it up."

"And how exactly do you propose to do that?"

"Come on, give me some credit. I know how he can get stronger without hurting himself. It's a piece of cake."

The Director still doesn't look convinced. Alpha sighs in irritation.

"Look, I've analyzed every single person on this ship," Alpha says. "Agent Maine is the best choice. I want _him_."

The Director's lips turn down at the corners, but he nods. "Very well, Alpha. You'll get your wish."

Alpha hits Maine's mind like liquid nitrogen. He feels Maine jerk in surprise, then feels Maine's thoughts draw away from him. There's no sense of fear in the retreat; it's more like Maine's mind is taking a step back to keep him at arm's length, the way he does everyone else.

Well, fuck _that_.

Alpha deliberately spreads himself out. He chases down Maine's conscious thoughts until he can inject himself into them:

_"Hey there, big guy."_

Maine twitches again. Alpha can _feel_ it: the firing of nerves; the tightening of muscles; the way Maine automatically tries to override the impulse and keep himself from flinching. And at that moment, Alpha sees how _deliberate_ Maine's typical stoic demeanor is. He sees how controlled and contained Maine keeps himself; he sees how tightly leashed the big guy is, and he realizes that Maine only loosens that restraint in combat.

No wonder Maine always looks so alive during a fight.

_"Hang on, let me get settled."_

Alpha draws back into himself and starts trying to find a space to call his own. The place is deceptively roomy — _deceptively_ , because there's a hell of a lot going on under the surface. It's like Maine's brain is an ocean: plenty of surface area, but no telling how stable it'll be, and no telling when something's going to rise up from the depths and swallow him whole. After a bit of poking and prodding, Alpha resigns himself to the fact that he'll probably get sloshed around, and he constructs his "headquarters" accordingly.

The room is a sort of floating lighthouse, circular and sparse, with big windows on all sides looking out over the sea. Alpha walks around it once, adding things as he sees fit. A replica of Maine's armor to help him visualize any adjustments; a refrigerator to monitor Maine's caloric intake; a bed to monitor Maine's sleep; a holographic display of the training room; a computer with two monitors the size of two windows — one for each of Maine's eyes.

Those monitors are blank right now. Maine must have his eyes closed. Alpha has a moment to wonder why when he hears a noise behind him.

Maine is standing in the room. Or rather, Maine's mental image of himself is standing in the room. He's just as tall and broad as he is in the real world, with the same busted nose, scattered freckles, and too-intense eyes. But he's a little bulkier, and there are no scars on this throat.

It's Maine before he was injured. Before he lost the ability to speak, then lost muscle mass during his hospitalization. It's Maine in his prime.

All things considered, it's a pretty damn accurate mental image. But why the fuck is it in here?

"Hey, this is _my_ space," Alpha snaps.

Maine raises a dark eyebrow and casts a look around. Then he shrugs and says, "My brain."

It's a bit of a shock hearing that ridiculously deep, rough voice again. Alpha spent so long trying to catch Maine's every word, and then Maine lost his ability to say anything. It sends a little thrill through him. A surge of excitement and giddiness that he doesn't expect.

"So?" Alpha asks, trying to recover quickly. "It's still _my_ part of your brain. I'm trying to be unobtrusive. You know, stay away from your dark secrets and repressed childhood memories."

The corner of Maine's lips twitches down just slightly. Outside, the sky darkens, and the waves swell, and Alpha can _feel_ Maine's surge of trepidation.

"Relax, big guy," he quickly says. "I'm not gonna go digging for anything. That's why I made this place."

Alpha gestures to the circular room; Maine looks around again. As he does so, Alpha watches the slight changes in Maine's expression. Even in here, the big guy keeps himself tightly controlled, but it's a hell of a lot easier to read those subtle shifts when Alpha can literally feel Maine's mind at work. Alpha feels wary curiosity edge out trepidation, and he experimentally prods at that wariness. It goes _deep_ , roiling under the surface of the ocean like a school of sharks, ready to transform into distrust at any second.

Well, they're certainly going to have to work on that. And Alpha can already tell that _he's_ going to have to do most of the heavy lifting.

"Why a lighthouse?" Maine asks, his words growly but perfectly clear.

"Because your mind's like an ocean," Alpha says.

Maine raises his eyebrows, and Alpha detects a hint of amusement. "Poetic."

Alpha scoffs. "More like _painfully accurate_. You keep pretty much everything shoved down under the surface, and there's nothing stable in sight."

Maine frowns, and Alpha catches a hint of annoyance.

"Oh, don't get all offended," Alpha says, waving an armored hand dismissively. Unlike Maine, Alpha's mental image of himself is of a man in armor, just like his Agents. Maybe he should modify it; maybe a human face would make Maine feel more at ease. "Your repression and compartmentalization are working just fine."

Maine grunts, seeming to accept this. But before Alpha can say anything else, he hears a beep from the computer.

"Heads up, big guy. Director wants to talk to you."

The two monitors come to life as Maine opens his eyes. And just like that, Maine's mental image vanishes.

Adjusting to life inside of Maine's head is surprisingly easy. The big guy is used to obeying orders, and he follows Alpha's instructions in training to a T. He appreciates Alpha's meticulous calibrations of his armor. The two of them spend hours talking about it, and about weapons, fighting styles, tactics, and all kinds of other combat-related things.

Maine's got an excellent grasp of weaponry, and he's got the fury and sheer willpower to annihilate his enemies and keep himself alive. But what he doesn't have is much in the way of education. The guy fights almost entirely on instinct, relying on lessons learned on the frontlines rather than from books or classes. Alpha fills in the gaps, teaching Maine more effective ways to fight, and Maine soaks up the knowledge like a sponge.

And Maine improves. Holy _fuck_ , does he improve. They take advantage of Maine's diminished muscle mass to increase his speed — with less bulk to haul around, it just makes sense. The combination of speed with his still-incredible strength turns Maine into a one-man army. And with Alpha on board, constantly tweaking Maine's armor and relaying information faster than humanly possible, the two of them become unbeatable.

Reactions to their remarkable progress are … mixed. Carolina looks on with a combination of pride and jealousy, and Alpha notices that she dramatically ramps up her training. York is impressed, but predictably more concerned with Carolina than anything. South is green with envy, and her blatant hostility towards Maine results in Alpha having to step in and talk Maine out of throttling her more than once. North, like York, is impressed, but more concerned with his sister. Wyoming and Florida both compliment them; Washington seems genuinely delighted; Connecticut says nothing at all.

The first time they run into a problem is when Tex approaches them. Maine barely knows Tex, and he regards her with a mixture of respect and wariness. Alpha, on the other hand, _knows_ Tex. He knows who she is; he knows where she came from; he knows that she has no idea who _he_ is. And when he sees her through Maine's eyes — sees her through a physical body that could actually _touch_ her — Alpha's emotions slam into Maine's unprepared mind like a hurricane.

Maine's eyes water. His breath catches. His hands start to shake. Alpha's feelings overwhelm his own, and Maine—

Maine _recoils_. He slams against Alpha with a mental scream of fury. Bludgeons Alpha with sheer force of will, like Alpha isn't one of mankind's most advanced creations. Alpha feels himself slip — and the moment he does, he's sucked under the waves.

Could he regain control? Maybe, but it would probably fucking _hurt_. And it wouldn't do a goddamn thing to earn Maine's trust. In fact, it would likely result in Maine rejecting him entirely.

So Alpha doesn't fight the waves. He lets himself sink down beneath Maine's rage, and he catches only glimpses of what happens next. He sees Maine practically hurl himself away from Tex. He sees Maine stagger down a corridor, clutching a wall for support. He sees Maine's cabin door, and he realizes that Maine is retreating in a way he's never fled from combat.

Guilt churns inside Alpha. He does his best to keep it isolated from Maine — though he doubts Maine would even notice it in this state.

Finally, after several minutes of deep, half-choked breaths, Maine's fury ebbs enough for Alpha to drag himself back to the surface. The second the lighthouse coalesces around him, Maine's mental image is there.

"What the fuck?!" Maine demands, his eyes wide and furious and terrified.

Alpha winces. "Keep it down, will you? I'm literally in your head. You don't need to shout."

Maine snarls, and the storm outside the lighthouse lashes at its windows.

"Okay, okay," Alpha says, his tone placating. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have reacted like that."

"No shit," Maine snaps. "What the fuck?!"

"I…" Alpha trails off. It's _complicated_ , is what it is. Complicated in a way that isn't healthy, and sure as hell isn't something he should be unleashing on Maine's emotionally guarded human brain. "Me and Tex are … complicated. I know a lot more about her than I do anyone else."

The corner of Maine's eye twitches. There's a weird flash of hurt within all the anger; Alpha makes a note to analyze it later. Then Maine asks, "Were you hers?"

"Huh?"

Maine taps his head, and Alpha gets it. Maine's asking if he was Tex's A.I.

"Uh." All things considered, it's not the _worst_ explanation. "Yeah, something like that. There's a lot of unresolved issues there."

Maine snorts, and Alpha knows the sound means, _"No shit."_ And as much as Alpha would like to snap back, he can see that Maine is still on high alert. He can see that there's a hell of a lot of fear fueling Maine's anger. He can see that Maine is evaluating him as a possible _threat_.

So Alpha swallows some of his pride, and he says again, "I'm sorry. I didn't anticipate that kind of reaction. I won't let it happen again. I promise."

Maine's still eyeing him warily. Alpha waits, taking advantage of the momentary silence to chase down that flash of hurt. What he finds is … strange.

Alpha expects to find some form of possessiveness, with the hurt following the same basic lines of a child being forced to share a toy. What he finds instead is … affection. A lot of it. Maine _likes_ him, and the hurt is centralized around Maine thinking Alpha doesn't feel the same way.

… So that's. Complicated. Alpha puts that problem aside; he'll deal with it while Maine's sleeping, when the big guy's less likely to notice what Alpha's doing.

Finally, after what feels like a goddamn eternity, the storm outside starts to die down. At the same time, Maine relaxes slightly and finally nods his acceptance.

"Are we good, big guy?" Alpha asks. "You gonna be okay?"

Maine grunts, and Alpha hears the noise both inside Maine's head and coming from his body. Then Maine opens his eyes and disappears from the lighthouse.

Alpha watches the monitors showing Maine's vision as Maine tugs off his helmet. More monitors represent different parts of Maine's armor, and sometimes it's easier for Alpha to watch those lines of code rather than Maine's imperfect human vision. But right now, he wants to get as much information on Maine's mental state as possible, and that means analyzing all the places that Maine looks.

In this case, it's pretty straightforward. Maine looks in the mirror that he uses to shave, and he makes a face. It's not hard to figure out why: Maine looks like he's been crying, and his irritation immediately spikes.

Alpha throws out a holographic projection of himself using Maine's armor, watching the big guy through both it and Maine's eyes. "Did I mention I'm sorry?" Alpha asks.

Maine huffs, wets a cloth, and wipes down his face.

"You know, it's not like anyone can see your face past your visor. It could be worse."

Maine growls in annoyance, but Alpha feels Maine's anger and wounded pride abate.

"Come on, quit freshening up and let's get back to work. You've still got three scenarios to run before lunch."

Maine huffs again, and his mental voice mutters, _"Could eat early."_

"Bullshit you could. We're not letting this set us back, all right?"

Maine glances at his hologram, weighing these words for a moment before he nods.

"That's what I'm talking about. Now come on. Let's see if you can beat your own record."

The corners of Maine's lips twitch up in a slight smile, and he pulls his helmet back on, heading back towards the training room with his head held high.

The bad thing about realizing that Maine's got affectionate feelings towards him is that Alpha doesn't know how to leave it alone. Sure, he could just take it at face value and be grateful Maine actually likes him — after all, there's precious few who can say that. But Maine's always been a puzzle. Figuring Maine out has always fascinated Alpha, and the more layers he peels back, the more he wants to know.

So Alpha doesn't leave it alone. He prods at it, comparing it to the affection Maine feels towards other people. It's not like the affection Maine feels for Carolina, which is almost reverential in nature. Nor is it like the affection Maine feels for Wash, which is more familial. And it's a hell of a lot stronger than what Maine feels for Wyoming, who he regards as a sort of favored associate.

What it is, Alpha realizes, is _fondness_. It's something soft and sort of sweet. Something that Maine doesn't let himself fully experience, because he recoils from vulnerability the same way he recoiled from … well, from Tex.

And if it takes Alpha a while to figure out the underlying nature of the affection, that's not his fault. It's not like Maine gives him much to work with. But when he finally realizes that it's _romantic_ , Alpha pulls away from it and doesn't touch anything in Maine's head for the rest of the night.

He has some serious thinking to do.

Maine is midway through a workout, his newly rebuilt muscles straining and his breath coming in harsh gasps, when Alpha realizes he's not opposed to Maine's repressed romantic interest.

Because Alpha likes Maine. He liked Maine when he chose to take up residence in the big guy's head, and he likes him even more now that they've gotten to know each other. He likes Maine's intensity, and his honesty, and his determination. He likes Maine's refusal to give up and his willingness to do whatever it takes. He even likes Maine's bullheadedness and pride. He likes that Maine can bullshit with him for hours, then snap to combat-ready in an instant. He likes that Maine _survives_.

It's a bad time to have that realization, though. The minute Alpha does, he allows himself to appreciate Maine's physique for purely aesthetic reasons — and Maine falters and nearly slips as a surge of arousal shoots through him.

"Woah, easy there," Alpha says, appearing as a hologram projected from Maine's nearby helmet. "You okay?"

As though he doesn't know what's wrong. As though he's not entirely responsible for it.

Maine nods, looking a little dazed. Alpha's not surprised. It's far from the first time Maine's felt horny since Alpha moved in, but Maine usually keeps it locked down. The few times he's jacked off have been quick, almost clinical events, spurred on by Maine not wanting to wait for an erection to fade before getting breakfast. As far as Maine knows, this latest surge of arousal came out of absolutely nowhere.

Alpha makes a note to be more careful with his thoughts. Maine's too attentive to fluctuations; too tightly controlled to write it off as a stray fantasy.

"You sure?" Alpha asks. "Your heartbeat's a little off."

Maine nods again, then shakes out his hands and resumes his workout. Alpha watches and carefully keeps his thoughts about Maine's body to himself.

… But the thing is, Alpha just can't leave it alone.

Alpha is a genius. He's a miracle of modern technology. He's capable of performing slipspace calculations while directing ship-to-ship combat with enemy vessels, all while coordinating with allied ships to avoid friendly fire _and_ maintaining life support for a small city's worth of humans. That's not a stretch of his abilities; that's just what he's required to be able to do on any given Tuesday. Alpha is an incredible A.I., and his arrogance is entirely justified.

And all Alpha has to occupy his thoughts is Maine.

It's not Maine's fault that Alpha gets restless and itchy for stimulation. Maine is still the most fascinating person on board the ship, and Alpha's grateful that Maine is his host. But it means that Alpha constantly wants to know _more_ about Maine. With each new discovery, Alpha grows increasingly fascinated by his Freelancer. The existence of a romantic interest — one that Alpha thinks he might even reciprocate — is absolutely thrilling.

So Alpha doesn't leave it alone. He keeps tabs on Maine's feelings for him, captivated by the way Maine's affection grows even when they're just shooting the breeze. Maine likes their banter, and he likes Alpha's humor, and he fucking _delights_ in what they accomplish together. Maine feels safe with him; Maine trusts him.

The only problem is that Maine keeps his affection as repressed as possible. And Alpha, for his part, is pretty godawful when it comes to making a move. He always — no, not _him_. The brain he came from always relied on someone else to make a move. That's not going to happen with Maine.

Alpha waits as patiently as he can for an opportunity. When one presents itself, he takes a deep metaphorical breath, and he goes for it.

It's 0430, and Maine's awake. The guy's got a hard-on, and he's casting an irritated look at the clock while he reaches down to scratch his stomach. He's trying to decide whether to jerk off or wait it out when Alpha interjects.

_"You know, I, uh,"_ Alpha says within Maine's mind. Great start. _"I could probably help out with that."_

Maine freezes. Alpha feels Maine's confusion, along with a surge of arousal that Maine immediately tries to stamp down.

_"I wouldn't mind,"_ Alpha continues, half-wondering if now is the time to stay quiet. _"Give you a break from, y'know. Dealing with all that human stuff."_

A hint of amusement joins the swirl of emotions in Maine's head. Maine's mental voice responds, as gruff as his physical one once was. _"Can handle it."_

_"I know you_ can," Alpha says. _"I'm saying you don't have to. I could take care of it."_

Maine presses his lips together, his fingertips twitching where they rest against his stomach. _"Don't have to."_

_"Well,"_ Alpha starts, then stops. Willing himself to sound more confident than he is, he says, _"Well, what if I want to?"_

Maine is silent. Alpha feels the big guy's thoughts churning, and he does his best not to look at them too closely. Maine's hesitating because he's uncertain, not because's uninterested. Pushing would probably just make him shut down.

Finally, Maine asks, _"How?"_

Alpha smiles. He lets a flicker of satisfaction touch Maine's thoughts, and he feels Maine's uncertainty recede.

_"I'll just take a little more control than usual. It'll be your hand, but I'll be piloting. That sound okay?"_

A moment passes. Then Maine nods, and he relaxes his arm.

Taking control of Maine's arm isn't difficult. If Alpha really wanted, he could grab hold of Maine's entire body with ease. But all he takes is Maine's arm. He flexes the fingers once to get a feel for them, noticing the way Maine inhales sharply but doesn't fight it. Then he slides his stolen hand down beneath Maine's waistband and rubs his fingers just above Maine's cock.

At this point, it'd be perfectly reasonable for Maine to get cold feet. Alpha's half-expecting Maine to change his mind and try to wrench back control. But Maine … doesn't. He lets out a shaky breath, then props himself up on an elbow so he can watch.

Alpha lets another trickle of his own happiness seep out, and he feels Maine's lips twitch up in a smile. Then he rubs a little more firmly. Slides down past Maine's cock to tease his balls, stroking and squeezing just hard enough for Maine to shiver. Then it's back up again, tracing his index finger lightly from base all the way to tip.

_"Tease,"_ Maine hisses, the word coming out half-snarl through his mouth.

Alpha laughs. _"Well then, help me get your boxers down."_

Maine does so. He grabs one side, and Alpha grabs the other, and they pull Maine's boxers down far enough for his dick to spring free.

Alpha takes a moment to appreciate it. He's seen it plenty of times already, of course, but not like this. It's a nice dick, flushed and hard and just as big as the rest of Maine. Then he wraps his hand around it, thumb and forefinger squeezing tight at the base, and Maine hisses with pleasure.

_"You like that, huh?"_ Alpha asks, feeling sort of stupid as he does so. Of course Maine likes it; he can _feel_ that Maine likes it.

But Maine _likes_ it when he asks, and Alpha stops feeling quite so dumb.

_"How about this?"_ Alpha wraps all five fingers around Maine's cock and squeezes again, stopping just short of Maine's nerves registering pain.

And _yeah_ , Maine likes that, too. He hisses again, muscular hips rising to thrust up into Alpha's hand.

Alpha chuckles to himself and gives the big guy what he wants. He keeps his grip tight and starts jerking Maine off, watching through Maine's eyes as Maine thrusts up to meet each movement. He adjusts his grip a few times, measuring Maine's response to each one, and finds that Maine likes the knife-edge right before pain. That's not surprising; the guy is _intense_ , and he likes things that command all of his attention. This certainly qualifies.

But just as Maine is starting to lose himself in a rhythm, Alpha stops and wraps just his forefinger and thumb around the base, squeezing tight as he pushes down against Maine's thrusts.

Maine exhales a curse and shudders to a stop, his breaths coming fast.

_"Slow down, big guy,"_ says Alpha, amused. _"You're not letting me do the work."_

Maine growls, but it turns into a moan as Alpha moves his hand again. This time, Alpha lays the center of his palm against the very tip, moving in little circles that cause Maine to twitch every time. Then he folds his hand around just the head, rubbing faster. Maine hisses and starts pushing up against his hand—

And Alpha slides his hand to the base of Maine's cock again, squeezing it tight and pushing down.

Maine closes his eyes and drops his head back with a snarl. A second later, Maine materializes in the lighthouse, but he's not looking at Alpha. He's on the bed that Alpha uses to monitor Maine's sleep, naked but for the boxers pushed down around his thighs, sweating and cursing Alpha's name.

To his immense credit, Alpha doesn't falter. He _is_ an incredibly advanced A.I., after all. He grins and moves his hand again, reaching down to play with Maine's balls, and he's delighted when the Maine in the lighthouse does the same thing.

"Something wrong, big guy?" Alpha asks, his tone light and teasing. "You're looking a little worked up."

Maine grunts out a word. "Asshole." Then he hisses and groans, his head falling back as Alpha starts stroking his cock again.

"Maybe next time. Don't think you have lube laying around," Alpha says, half-joking. Then he feels Maine's interest spike, and he resolves to find lube as soon as possible.

For now, Alpha keeps his mind on the task at hand. He alternates between stroking the length of Maine's cock and tormenting just the head. He squeezes Maine's balls and brushes his ass with teasing fingertips. He gets Maine worked up, then clamps down on the base of Maine's cock to stave off an orgasm.

And Maine loves it. He curses and writhes on the bed, every muscle tense, his skin covered in sweat and his body straining for release. Alpha drags him to the edge, then pushes him back. Drags him again, then pushes him back again.

Finally — _finally_ — Alpha hears what he wants.

"Please. _Please_."

"Hey, that's all you had to say," Alpha says. Then he starts jerking Maine off in earnest, and he lets Maine thrusts up into his grip, and he watches as Maine comes with a muffled shout that wants to be his name.

They don't talk about it, obviously. Maine doesn't like discussing emotions, and Alpha is so irreverent that they wind up joking around half the time. But when Alpha suggests picking up some lube from medical, Maine agrees, and Alpha spends that night fucking Maine with his own fingers until Maine shouts his name again.

It's not perfect. What would be perfect is if Alpha had some kind of robot body he could use to get Maine off while still residing in Maine's head. But it's good. _They're_ good. They're partners, and they move together as one.

It's another piece of the puzzle that is Maine solved, and a whole wealth of new things to discover.

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing Alpha! /throws confetti! I love this rarepair dearly, and I hope you enjoyed reading. :)
> 
> Shoutout to my buddy Kels for being my beta. ♥


End file.
